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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28192140">Dysfunctional Families</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KleptoElf/pseuds/KleptoElf'>KleptoElf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Arrow (TV 2012)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:20:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,293</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28192140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KleptoElf/pseuds/KleptoElf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver just wants to get away from his life for a few hours. Laurel just wants a distraction from having to spend another Christmas with her dysfunctional family. Maybe they can both get what they want.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A blast of warm air greeted him as he pushed open the door to the bar, starkly contrasting the bitter cold he was attempting to keep at bay with a thick scarf and coat. He tried to massage some feeling back into his hands as he quickly scanned the room, taking in the sight before him.</p><p>Music played quietly, drowned out by conversations as patrons tried to make themselves heard over other patrons, and a soft yellowy light lit up the faded carpet and wood-accented walls the bar called decor. It was quaint, he decided, and exactly the kind of place he had been looking for; full enough that no one would notice one more person, and far enough into the Glades that no one would think to look for him here. Sure, he could go to some expensive wine bar with his best friend, laugh about old times and pick out which girl, or girls, each of them was going to try to sleep with. But right now, that life was exactly what he was trying to avoid.</p><p>He noted that all the booths and tables seemed to be packed with friends and families, all celebrating in the last few days before Christmas, so he made his way over to a bar stool where he was greeted by a young man in a black shirt with what he assumed was the bar's logo on.</p><p>"Hey, what can I get you?"</p><p>He hadn't really thought about that, which was ridiculous seeing as he was in a bar, but it had been a spur of the moment decision to enter the establishment. He looked briefly at the choices lined up against the wall behind the man, before his eyes fell on a section of bottles containing an amber-coloured liquid.</p><p>"Whiskey, your choice. No ice, please."</p><p>The barman nodded and turned around, grabbing a glass and started to make his drink. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, depositing a twenty on the bar as his glass was placed in front of him. He mumbled a thanks and lifted the drink to his lips as the barman walked away to serve another customer that had just walked up to the bar. He hummed approvingly as the honeyed taste slid down his throat. Whatever it was he was drinking, the barman had chosen well.</p><p>He had been a big drinker when he was younger, always seen in bars and clubs, even before he was 21, and always suffering from the accompanying hangover the next day, which usually led to him skipping school. His parents had disapproved, of course, but they often turned a blind eye when it came to his nighttime activities. Sometimes he missed that life, carefree rather than constantly on guard, but he could never return to it. As much as he pretended, he was far from the boy he was five years ago.</p><p>Recent developments, however, had led him to seeking out the bar he was currently in. He needed a place to get away from the constant hounding of his family, and a place to think. He supposed it was some remnants of the old him that had directed him here rather than let him wander the streets all night. He could still enjoy a drink or two every now and then, especially when it wasn't just for show, and right now there was no one he needed to slip on a mask for.</p><p>As he lifted his glass to his lips to take a second sip, his thoughts were interrupted by a voice somewhere to his right, bringing him out of his musings. He turned to see an attractive woman looking at him with an eyebrow raised and a small smile playing on her lips, blue eyes meeting olive green. He regarded her for a second before realising she had asked him a question.</p><p>"Sorry?"</p><p>Her smile widened before she gestured to the whiskey glass in his hand with a nod of her head.</p><p>"Rough day?" She repeated, before thanking the bar tender as he placed a glass of clear liquid in front of her.</p><p>He studied her closely. The question seemed innocent enough. There was no camera swinging from her neck or notepad clutched in her hand, so he was fairly sure she wasn't a reporter looking for an easy story about the billionaire gracing the Glades with his patronage. But that didn't mean she didn't want something.</p><p>"Maybe I just like the taste." He replied. He was testing her, letting a little bit of his old playboy persona show, seeing if she was willing to play the game or would leave to go join a table of her colleagues for their Christmas drinks. She nodded, seeming to consider his statement.</p><p>"Maybe. But then you wouldn't be staring at your glass like it murdered your first-born son."</p><p>He was taken aback. Had he really been letting his thoughts play that clearly across his face? He swivelled on his stool slightly so he could take in her appearance. She was pretty, he noted, with honey-blonde hair spilling onto shoulders clad in a black leather jacket and long legs hidden by faded grey jeans. Looking back at her face, he could see a knowing smile, to which he just raised his eyebrow.</p><p>"Rough month more like." He joked, turning back to face the bar and taking a drink. He wasn't going to give anything away easily. The woman snorted in response.</p><p>"Seems like that's going around. So what is it? Have a fight with your girlfriend? Boss being an asshole? Look, if you can't tell a random stranger you met in a bar then who the hell can you tell?"</p><p>He could already see she wasn't going to give up, and she probably wasn't going to settle for some half-assed lie he came up with. A peaceful drink was looking less and less likely, not that he found himself minding. The woman was a nice change from people either treating him like royalty or like a spoiled child.</p><p>"No girlfriend to speak of, and I don't exactly have a boss." He looked at her again, seeing her staring back at him over the rim of her glass as she took a sip. How much would he reveal to her? At her silence, he continued.</p><p>"I was...in an accident, of sorts," he began, choosing his words carefully, "about five years ago. The same accident killed my dad. For a while they thought I was dead too, until I managed to call them a couple of months ago and tell them what happened. I think my family and my friends were all expecting me to be the same kid I was, but I've changed, and they've changed. Things aren't the same, but it's like no one but me can see it. So, I came here, to try and regain some normality in my life. Go somewhere I'm not treated like I'm going to get hurt if I do anything for myself."</p><p>The woman nodded, then held up her glass like she was toasting him. Her eyes hadn't left his when he was talking, something he appreciated greatly. People rarely knew how to act when it came to his father's death, treating him with kid gloves or avoiding the subject at all costs.</p><p>"That's shit, man. Now I get why you're in a bar alone on Christmas Eve Eve Eve." He raised an eyebrow with a questioning grin.</p><p>"Christmas Eve Eve Eve?"</p><p>"Yeah. December 22nd. Christmas Eve Eve Eve. Really not sure what you're struggling with here."</p><p>She said it so matter-of-factly that he couldn't think of a remark to make. They managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds, before both of them burst out laughing. Whatever tension there had been between the two strangers was quickly dissipated at the absurdity of the statement. He was the first to reach across the gap between the two of them, extending his hand for her to shake.</p><p>"Oliver."</p><p>"Laurel." She supplied, shaking his hand with a firm grip.</p><p>"So, what about you Laurel?" He asked. "Why are you down here three days before Christmas drinking alone? Unless it's for the company."</p><p>"Kinda the same thing," she replied, smirking at his flirtatious comment, "family being family. My dad decided this is the year my dysfunctional family will all stay at his and have Christmas together, which has so far led to my parents getting into an argument about their divorce, my sister sneaking out to meet up with her girlfriend she thinks none of us know about, and my mom hounding me for being single and not popping out some grandkids for her. Apparently, they need to get a year's worth of arguments off their chest all at the same time."</p><p>She huffed and took a drink. Oliver wasn't quite sure what to say to that, so he just repeated her sentiment from earlier.</p><p>"That's pretty shit, too. We've got two families at opposite ends of the spectrum, and now we're both here trying to escape them."</p><p>He raised his glass to her in a toast.</p><p>"To dysfunctional families."</p><p>She smiled and tapped his glass with hers.</p><p>"To overbearing parents."</p><p>They both drained their glasses, and Oliver motioned to the bartender to bring them another round.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn't until the barman told them the bar was closing soon that either of them realised the time. Conversation had been flowing easily, as had the alcohol. They were both well past tipsy, and any inhibitions about talking to a stranger were long gone.</p><p>Oliver had revealed himself to be the son of billionaire Robert Queen after a slip up, but Laurel had taken it into her stride, barely remarking on a fact that she could see he had attempted to avoid. It didn't stop her from teasing him, though, asking why she was spending her money on drinks if he was rich. Oliver had reached for his wallet, but Laurel had shooed his hand away and paid for both of them.</p><p>Laurel had told him about her family, about her detective father and professor mother who couldn't make it work, both being 'married to their professions'. And about her sister, Sara, who Laurel insisted was their parent's favourite so could get away with murder.</p><p>Oliver nodded to the bartender and stood up, shrugging on his coat as Laurel finished her drink. Standing up, she wobbled slightly on her feet before steadying herself, grabbing her coat and bag from the bar and slipping them on. She smiled at the barman then turned towards the door, heading past the few other stragglers who had stayed until closing and out the door. He followed her, rubbing his hands together in a vain attempt to keep them warm.</p><p>Once outside, he pulled his coat closer around him and looked at his watch, which confirmed the barman's assessment of the time.</p><p>"So, I guess this is goodbye?" He asked as she turned to face him, cheeks already reddened by the chill. She raised an eyebrow.</p><p>"Why? Got somewhere to be?"</p><p>He didn't, but he had expected her to want to get back home and into bed. When he told her what he was thinking, she pouted.</p><p>"Either go back to my apartment, sit in the dark and think about what I'm going to say to my parents tomorrow, or go back to my dad's now and have to explain that they were being dicks so I went and got drunk. Neither one of those sounds appealing, so I'm going to keep pretending that everything is fine. You coming or not?"</p><p>Oliver barely even considered the question before nodding, seeing Laurel's face light up as she grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together and pulling him down the street, making him laugh out loud.</p><p>"Where are we going?" he asked, struggling to keep up as she marched down the road.</p><p>"To the mall. Every year I go to see the big tree they have, but with my family being my family I haven't had the chance yet. So, I am going to see it, and you are coming with me."</p><p>She had a steely determination, and her excitement was infectious. Oliver's family had forgone Christmas this year, indirectly blaming Oliver's accident and his father's death, which was something else that had led him to seeking out the bar. Ordinarily, they would have a huge tree comparable in size to the one at the mall, and with more expensive decorations, but he wasn't going to tell Laurel that. She might know him to be a billionaire, but he was quite enjoying not having to be one.</p><p>It didn't take them long to wind their way to their destination. Ordinarily, he might have been concerned about being out this late, but the streets were well lit and they were now out of the Glades, making their way up the path that led to a brightly lit tree that had a few people around it taking pictures.</p><p>Laurel let go of his hand and ran the rest of the way, Oliver quick to follow, laughing as he tried to keep up. She stopped when she reached the base of the tree, and as he slowed down to stop beside her, he could see why she was so excited.</p><p>The tree was stunning, with brilliant-white lights shimmering amongst the branches, multicoloured baubles hanging from everywhere that could hold them, and a bright, golden star to top it off. It was about twenty feet tall, and at its base was a huge ceramic pot that looked as if it had been painted by children of a local school. This wasn't a tree that was locked away in his family mansion. This was for the people of Starling City, and he couldn't help but think he preferred the one in front of him.</p><p>He turned to look at Laurel, and saw her face lit up with an almost ethereal glow, the fairy lights reflected in her olive-green eyes. When she looked at him with a huge smile, he couldn't help but grin back, worries forgotten in the moment.</p><p>"Ooh, take a picture of me!" Laurel almost shouted in excitement, digging into her pocket to pull out her phone, scrolling to open the camera app before handing it to Oliver. He took a few steps back and pointed it at her, making sure to get as much of the tree as he could in the background. She posed, completely ignoring dignity as she did a star jump which he captured perfectly with a well-timed press of the screen. He got a few more photos of her as she quickly changed poses before she gestured for him to stop and walk back over.</p><p>"We need to take a picture together, too!" She insisted, taking her phone back and looping an arm round his back. Oliver couldn't bring himself to refuse, so he threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, flashing a toothy smile. After a few clicks, Laurel seemed satisfied, pulling away and quickly flicking through the photos he had taken, laughing at some of the sillier faces she had pulled.</p><p>He just smiled at her antics. He'd never met someone so carefree before. He imagined she was the kind of person that no matter how much life would try to tear her down, she would rise above it all with a smile on her face.</p><p>"Would it be okay if you walk me home?"</p><p>The voice pulled him out of his thoughts as he saw Laurel looking at him, face still bathed in the glow from the tree.</p><p>"Sure, I've got nowhere to be."</p><p>"Great. I'm going to my apartment because there is no way I'm letting my dad spoil my fun by asking where I've been and that I'm being irresponsible by staying out so late and blah blah blah..."</p><p>Oliver chuckled as she petered off. Laurel pouted but was unable to keep the smile off her face. Oliver reached out and took her hand, enjoying the warmth as their fingers laced together again.</p><p>"Which way?"</p><p>Laurel pointed towards the edge of the Glades and began leading him back down the path to the road. She swung their hands as they walked, keeping to the well-lit sidewalks. There was a comfortable silence that neither of them felt like breaking. Oliver was glad he had chosen that bar to attempt to drink away his problems. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Laurel was an amazing woman; wicked smart and beautiful, not letting anything stop her from doing what she wanted, and Oliver hoped that he had been good enough company in return.</p><p>Just as they turned onto what Laurel informed him was her street, small white flakes of snow started drifting down from the inky black sky above. Laurel gasped and started spinning round with her arms outstretched and face pointed upwards, eyes closed. There was a content smile on her face, and he thought in that moment that he had never seen anyone more beautiful.</p><p>"Looks like it's a white Christmas Eve Eve Eve after all." He joked. Laurel laughed, opening her eyes to face him before taking his hand once again and pulling him towards an apartment building. They stopped as they reached the door, and Laurel let go of his hand so she could face him.</p><p>"This is me." She murmured. They were unbearably close, their breath mingling as a frosty mist that spiralled upward. "Thanks for walking me home. And coming with me to see the lights. This pretty shitty night actually turned out to be pretty good."</p><p>"Well, thank you for making me air my grievances." He joked, seeing her eyes shimmer with mirth, "Not exactly what I was expecting from tonight, but can't say I'm complaining."</p><p>There was a pause as they both seemed to hold their breath. The air between them had become suddenly charged, daring each of them to reach out. He wasn't sure which one of them made the first move, but suddenly they were kissing, lips locked in a battle for dominance. He tangled his fingers in her hair as she gripped his jacket and pulled his body flush against hers.</p><p>He barely noticed as they entered the building, nor the ride up in the elevator, too distracted by this new, exciting thing between them. The only time they parted was for Laurel to fiddle with her front door keys before they were back to exploring each other's bodies with desperate hands. Oliver kicked the door shut behind them with a slam, following Laurel as she pulled him towards what he assumed was her bedroom.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Oliver woke, he didn't immediately recognise where he was. He blinked a few times to try to rid his head of the dull ache that he had been very familiar with in his younger days, and squinted at the light streaming into the room that seemed far too bright for a winter's day. The hangover he was nursing made his head thump in protest, urging him to go back to sleep until the pain stopped, or until the light stopped assaulting his eyes.</p><p>It was only when he tried to raise his hand to his head, and finding there to be something holding it down, that he noticed that he wasn't alone. Nestled into his side, head resting on his shoulder and arm thrown lazily over his torso, was the sleeping form of Laurel Lance, breathing steadily as she slept. She lay face down, with the sheets pooled around her waist showing Oliver that she, like him, was naked.</p><p>Images of the previous night flashed in his mind, and he couldn't help the smile that played on his lips. It had probably been one of the better nights he had had in his life. Not only had he hooked up with a stranger at a bar, something he hadn't done since his days of flashing a fake ID at the bouncer, but he had enjoyed their mini adventure they had gone after the bar closed. More importantly, he felt lighter than he had in a long while. He hadn't had to be Oliver Queen, son of billionaire Robert Queen, heir to the throne of Queen Consolidated. He had just been Oliver, and it had been liberating.</p><p>He glanced back down at Laurel, still sleeping soundly. Her face was almost buried in her blonde curls, but he could still make out her face, relaxed and serene, the corners of her lips slightly raised in content. He wished he could be like that, not letting his worries affect him. It had been a surprise he hadn't woken to a nightmare about the island like he usually did, but a welcome one.</p><p>Just then, he felt Laurel stir beside him, and he saw her open her eyes, though she instantly shut them and groaned in protest at the light that had found its way through a crack in the curtains they had hastily closed last night. Squinting, she looked up and their eyes met.</p><p>"Hi," she smiled, stretching like a cat before cuddling back into him, "I hope you don't mind but you're really comfy and I'm really tired."</p><p>"Not up for round two, then?" He joked, and was pleased to see a faint blush on her cheeks and her lips twitch with a grin.</p><p>"More like round four. Or was it five? I lost count."</p><p>Even after just waking up, she was quick to rise to his challenge, not letting his teasing go unanswered.</p><p>"Hell of a night."</p><p>She hummed noncommittally, not moving where she lay. For a moment they didn't move, enjoying each other's presence.</p><p>"Thank you for not leaving." She murmured.</p><p>"Why would I leave?" He asked, absent-mindedly stroking her hair.</p><p>"Isn't that what guys do after a one-night stand? Wait until the girl falls asleep then sneak out the window." She had a point. He had been guilty of this on more than one occasion, though he hoped the island had changed him enough to end that particular trait.</p><p>"And spoil your Christmas Eve Eve Eve? Or I suppose it's Christmas Eve Eve now."</p><p>Laurel snorted and looked up at him, chin resting on his chest.</p><p>"Out of all the things that you should remember about last night, that is definitely not one of them."</p><p>"Trust me, I remember a lot about last night."</p><p>"Yet you still want a reminder this morning."</p><p>"Only if you're offering."</p><p>Oliver felt like he had known Laurel all his life. Their banter was easy, their tone light, teasing at things that could be while neither one of them bothering to move from their current position. Anyone looking in might think they were married with how comfortable they seemed to be with each other.</p><p>"Down, boy," she teased, raising an amused eyebrow, "I need to eat something greasy to stop my head from feeling like it's been thrown through a wall before I even think about anything else."</p><p>He had to agree with her there. His head lightly throbbed from the excessive amount of alcohol he had drank at the bar, and Laurel had kept up with his intake all night. He usually tried to control how much he drank, but Laurel's challenging eyes had kept him ordering drinks until last orders.</p><p>Suddenly, Laurel let out a huge groan and rolled over onto her back, giving Oliver an excellent view as she did as the sheets were still wrapped around her waist.</p><p>"What is it?" He asked, rolling onto his side to face her.</p><p>"I've just remembered what's waiting for me when I go back to my dad's."</p><p>Oliver was also reminded in that moment why he had left his family last night to seek out a bar, and he barely supressed a groan of his own.</p><p>"Would our families be mad if we just hid here for the next couple of days?"</p><p>"Definitely, but that doesn't make it a tempting offer. Only problem is my dad knows where I live. Sooner or later, he'll come kicking down my door, probably arrest you for daring to have sex with me, then take me back home."</p><p>It had come up last night about Laurel's father being a cop, and his tendency to go too far with scaring off her ex-boyfriends.</p><p>"I hope not. Then I'd have no option but to go home and face the wrath of my mother. I wouldn't be surprised if there are already people looking for me, though I don't think they'll find me here."</p><p>"Looks like we don't have a lot of time together, then." Laurel said, rolling over to straddle Oliver, her hands on his chest as he placed his on her hips.</p><p>"What about breakfast?" He asked, grinning. Laurel smiled down at him, though there was a tinge of pink to her cheeks.</p><p>"Why don't we make it a date? I don't know about you, but I'm not totally against exchanging numbers and meeting up again? And not just for the sex, although the sex was amazing, definitely wouldn't mind doing that again, but –"</p><p>She broke off as Oliver laughed. She frowned at him and slapped his chest lightly, gasping slightly as Oliver bucked his hips in response.</p><p>"Laurel, I really like you. Like a lot, and I'd love to take you for breakfast sometime."</p><p>At that, Laurel's smile looked like it would split her face. She leaned down and captured his lips in a passionate kiss. Oliver responded by rolled them over so she was underneath him, eliciting a squeak from the blonde.</p><p>For now, dysfunctional families could wait.</p>
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